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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Disappearing Demons
It hurts. I vacillate between wanting for it to be over and wanting to have it continue, even as damaged and heart breaking and non-existent as it is. I never want to let go. I want to be free. I want it to be ten years from now so that I can look back on this and think about how foolish I was. How foolish I was over this. How I knew it would never work and how I still believed that it might and how I kept breaking my own heart over and over on expectation and hope. It hurts. I want nothing and everything. I want not to have to feel anything ever again. I want to know and will never know the truth about this. I only know my part in it. I only know that I was not able to succeed at something so important. I am defined by this failure. Out of all the times I failed at anything, it is this failure that I regret. I ripped apart my life so that I might have the chance to succeed and I failed and I�m now trying to hold these feelings at bay. But it hurts anyway.
I should have left already. I�ll leave the city in May.
More lies:
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